


Penance, in the Wild

by KieraRutherford



Series: Penance [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Lyrium Withdrawal, Pain, Past Pain, Rage, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Red Lyrium, References to Torture, Shrine of Dumat, Violence, negative emotions, soothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraRutherford/pseuds/KieraRutherford
Summary: Part 3 of the 4 part series. This one is darker, and it deals mainly with addiction, torture and the healing of Cullen with Diana. There is going to be a lot of dark themes through this and I do warn readers, it will hurt. But it won't hurt forever.





	1. Chasing Samson

Everything was a whirl of blistering moves and packing as Diana and her team gathered to prepare for their ride to the Shrine of Dumat. Samson would be awaiting them, with his red lyrium armor. Double checking her chest of essences and powders she knew it wasn’t enough. ‘I’ll need to scavenge at camp.’ Returning the flap of her saddle bag she watched Dorian finish strapping down his gear, “ready for some fun, dear cousin?”

“Yes, hours and hours upon horseback, into the wilds of Fereldan. I’m dying to start.” Rolling his eyes Dorian grumbled as he clambered onto his mount. 

Cullen finished packing the last items into his ruck sack and slung it over his shoulder, “Rylen will be returning before tomorrow night. He knows the roster and will take over once he is settled. Be his eyes and ears. He’ll need the extra hands till he gets his feet under himself.” Signing another message, he stashed away his quill and inkpot. Looking up at Lysette he caught her giving him an odd glance. “Is there something the matter?” 

“Ser, is it truly wise of you to go after Samson himself? With red lyrium being everywhere, won’t it cause a problem with your…” Lysette’s cheeks flushed as she tried to speak. “Perhaps it would best to remain here, and tend to the recruits.”

Leaning back, he had to think on her words, “Lysette, I shall be fine. I appreciate your concern.” Patting her on the shoulder he gave her a warm smile, “I shall return within a couple weeks at most. Try to keep Rylen on the path.”

“Yes, of course, ser.” Lysette half stumbled over her words as she returned his smile.

“Good.” Sighing he checked his desk over one last time, “Maker watch over you.”

Trotting down the path towards their first camping spot Diana was half paying attention to the bantering of her party members. Her mind was other places. Thinking over the incident with Flynn, and her past. Now she was concerned something or someone else might try to use her. Names, places, dates everything was flooding in as she tried to memorize each one to write to Leliana. Some had to have been dead by now, had to have perhaps gone into hiding knowing she was in charge of one of the largest armies in Thedas. If she was lucky she’d only have to deal with the nobles upon arrival back to Skyhold. 

Josephine had went over the last details with her mere moments before they rode off. Reminding her to be prepared to greet and meet nobles from all over Orlais once they returned. Signing off on decoration and meal choices Diana pushed the whole process out of her mind. 

“Over here, it looks like a flatter place. Little stream near by should be helpful.” Bull pointed to an area shielded by trees with a bubbling stream running behind it. 

Cantering the horses over to the spot Diana got down off her horse, “I’ll do a walk around. Be prepared.” 

Cullen was unsure what she had meant, as her companions stood at the ready, their weapons loosely in hand. “What is a walk around?” Cullen turned to Dorian as the mage twirled his staff in his hand. 

“She’s checking tracks in the area. See if this spot is secure enough. Also, a quick peek on fresh food.” Dorian rolled his shoulders, a healthy snap filling the air. “Horse back, all day should be a torture technique.” 

Before he could retort, Diana came marching back through the brushes, “we’re clear here. Some ram tracks heading further down the bank, a lone elf hunter, but he’s moved on. Some rabbit, a couple fennec. No enemies. We’ll be good to camp here.” Returning to her horse she calmly pet the creature’s muzzle utter calming coos. 

Standing in shock, Cullen wasn’t sure how to handle what he heard, nor the movements of her party to her words. Varric levelled Bianca down over his hip and sauntered off into the woods. Dorian and Bull went about the process of setting up camp. Tents, and unpacking cooking gear. 

“You planning on standing around or did you need a list?” Dorian scoffed as he went about helping hold the tent for Bull.

Stuttering Cullen nodded, “right, I’ll work on a fire.” 

Diana smirked to herself as she strapped on a small pouch to her thigh. “I’ll be in shouting range if you need me.” Disappearing into the bushes she began her work. Collecting and planning on ways of preparing her ingredients. An hour later, she casually walked back into the camp, a roaring fire and pot of stew bubbling away. “You didn’t kill him while I was gone, good.” Chuckling she looked over to Cullen who seemed less than comfortable. 

“Curly? Nah, he’s good at the fire wood gathering. Aren’t ya Curly,” Varric had a wicked grin on his face and Cullen was clearly unimpressed. 

Shaking her head, Diana returned to her chest. Taking it over beside the fire, she calmly went about her work. “Dinner, how long?” 

“Not much longer. Don’t want to boil it to death,” Bull sighed, stirring the pot once more before reaching to remove it from the fire. 

Cullen sat in awe, watching as the men went about their usual routine and Diana was quietly in her own world. He was intrigued by how she worked with the materials. He’d seen mages make paste from elfroot, and potions from embrium but he’d never seen what she was doing. How she carefully treated each bit of plant and flower with attention and respect. If this was how the Dalish tended to their healing arts then it was aptly named. Because what she was doing was an art. Such quiet focus and passion as he watched her. The subtle hint of frustration as her brows knits just the slightest together. How her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth and only the edges of her perfect teeth gripped it tightly. Even her eyes seemed to change. Not the emotionless void that she presented when dealing with Inquisition business. These were child like, a silent joy in what she was doing. 

“You’re staring,” Dorian rested a hand upon Cullen’s shoulder. “She’s incredible, isn’t she. So much knowledge and tenderness behind that icy exterior.” 

Blushing Cullen quickly averted his eyes to the fire, “I… um…” clearing his throat as quietly as he could he nodded to Dorian. “I suppose you know.” 

“I know you’ve been her main topic of choice at our chess games. So much so, she’s actually lost to me,” chuckling he leaned in closer. “I hope you have the best in mind for her. She deserves nothing less, and neither do you.”

Dumbfounded Cullen stared at the fire as it danced and consumed the odd bits of wood and dry grass Bull was mindlessly tossing in. Did he deserve her? He still felt guilty after their heated night, he had to hide his face when Josephine scolded Diana about the torn bits of Orlesian silk. All while she took it in stride, a grin plastered across her face, “it was time for new. With our victory, I think a lovely set in deep Inquisition red might be perfect. You could have a blanket made with the emblem of our order. Would make for a lovely end to the noble tours of Skyhold.” Josephine didn’t handle it well, but the idea of allowing nobles to tour the Inquisitor’s room did make her slightly less argumentative. 

“Lost in thought?” Varric smiled passing a bowl of steaming stew towards Cullen. “She does that to you, doesn’t she?” 

Cullen took the bowl, chuckling he shook his head, “oh no dwarf, you won’t get anything from me. I won’t be some misnamed character in your next bit of smutty literature.” 

Bull let out a hearty chuckle as he dug into his meal. “Yes, the ex-templar named Collin, if I remember.”

“You read my book Tiny?” Varric returned his snickers as he placed a bowl down beside Diana.

Snorting Bull puffed his chest out, “I can read.” 

Bull and Varric bantered back and forth, occasionally Dorian chiming In, poking fun at both men. Cullen had stopped paying attention. His focus was returned to Diana. She was packing away her little bottles and vials in her wooden chest. Each one treated with the gentlest of hands as she packed them away. Rearranging some dried grass that cradled some of the more delicate powders. He had seen her do many things but tend to something so gently, so focused and calmly. It was a side of her, he hadn’t imagined possible. Not after the mess they left behind. Her tear soaked face, tattered scarf still ghosted his dreams, his nightmares. 

Finishing his stew, he helped clear down the meal. “I can take first watch.” 

Diana snickered, “no need. The worst thing roaming in this area is druffalo. Only dangerous if angered. We can rest well tonight. In a few more days, that may not be the same. Sleep, while you can.” Returning the box to her horse she strapped it down tightly. Again, offering soft words and a tender brushing of the mare’s nose before returning to her spot by the fire. 

Slowly they each clambered off to their shared tents. Diana the last to leave, as she watched Cullen dip into the only unoccupied tent. His face had appeared sallow as the evening carried on and she was concerned for him. Withdrawal was still a problem, still close to the surface and she didn’t want to let on how scared she was. There was a good chance he may react to the call of the red lyrium. It was angry, hot and violent. How would he react? What would it do to him? Trying to shake the thoughts from her mind she added a few more thicker sections of wood to the fire before following behind him. 

They knew. Bull snickered as he turned in, patting Varric on the shoulders. Dorian waited for Cullen to dip inside before giving a final good night to Diana. There was no intention of anything as she silently pulled back the tent flap and began disrobing enough to sleep comfortably. While she was certain there wasn’t anything out there, it was never bright to completely relax either. Cozying into her bedroll, she listened for him. Hearing his breathing steady and constant. Asleep. Curling into her side she tried to get comfortable. Within a few minutes she slipped into a half sleep, her ears attuned to the wind and the grass about them as they rustled and swayed. 

“No… I… stop… please.” Cullen’s panicked voice woke her, and she reacted swiftly. Pressing her hand upon his chest, she could feel the heat raising from him. Too hot. Peeling his blanket back she fanned at him with her hand. Rubbing her knuckles into her sternum she kept her voice low, “I’m here, Cullen. It’s Diana. Deep, calming breathes.” 

His eyes shot open at the pressure and raking sensation. He reacted first, batting away her hand as he bolted straight up. “Stop!” Eyes wild he scanned the tent trying to remember what had happened, where he was. 

Diana remained calm, “you are on the path to find Samson. He is a red templar, you have struck the Inquisitor, and it is an obscene time of morning.” Sitting, she rubbed her eyes, “are you alright?”

Sweat slipped down his cheek and he nodded, too ashamed to speak. Wiping at his face, he tried to apologize, “Diana… I…”

“Don’t. It’s early and we have a long trek ahead of us. Think no more upon it.” Returning to her bedroll, she yawned before tucking herself back in. “Sleep. If you can.”

‘I can’t.’ Not wanting to bother her any further he flopped back down, eyes wide as he stared at the pitched ceiling. He felt tight, bundled up and there wasn’t enough air. Closing his eyes tightly again he followed the tricks the healer taught him, “count down. Ten to one, drawing in a deep breath with each number. That should get you through the worst of the nights. Knight Commander Meredith also instructed us to increase your lyrium rations, Knight Captain. It will help with the sleepless nights, and the nightmares.” 

How he hated that memory. Why hadn’t he seen it then? That it was Meredith’s way of keeping him pliable and under her control. For years, he drowned in the blue singing sea. Filtering out the horrors he was too afraid to stand before. Until that day. Hawke. Had it not been for Hawke… He didn’t want to think about it. Those were different times, he a different man. Trying to get comfy again he tossed and turned several times before he was able to rest. Even then his mind strayed back to the nightmare. Blood, heavy and thick in the air. It choked him and washed over him, leaving his hands stained. 

That was enough. Standing and dressing in the dark as quietly as he could he exited the tent. Placing a few more logs onto the dying fire he watched as the embers jumped to life.


	2. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING**** Withdrawal symptoms/he's hurting. You've been warned

Sitting by the fire, he tried to come to terms with it. The nightmares had to stop. There had to be a way to make them stop. No one, not even the most annoying noble should have to endure what he did. Night after night. His sweating had stopped in the night air, but his stomach was still flopping, and he was struggling to keep it down. Feeling his mouth pool with saliva he knew there was no way around it. Getting up he walked the few feet away from camp he could, before dropping to his knees. Sweat began to coat his neck, cold and clammy as he emptied his stomach in the tall brush. His hands shook, her shoulders trembled, and he prayed to the Maker no one saw him. It took him several attempts to get to his feet. 

‘Diana deserves better than this,’ he spat the bile from his lips as he tried again to get to his feet. Falling onto his ass, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His heart was racing in his chest and the wind had caused the sweat to chill him to his core as he shivered. Half dragging himself back to camp he took the water skin from his horse and drained it down. Forcing himself forward he sat by the fire, trying to still the pounding between his eyes, that blurred his vision. Closing them tightly he tried to focus on the constant snapping and crackling of the fire. 

“You don’t look well,” Diana’s soft hands were rubbing circles upon his upper back, easing the rumbling of his upset stomach. “I’m alright,” patting her hand he clenched his jaw as another wave of nausea crept over him.

Sighing, Diana quietly paced to her horse, retrieving her small chest. “I have something that will help. One moment.” 

Again, he swallowed hard, choking down the burp that was anything but air. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” 

Diana could see otherwise, see he was putting on his manly pride. Chuckling she dug through the bottles and herbs, ignoring his bravado. Collecting a mug from her sack, she added the items in before returning to his side. Taking the pot, she poured some of the water from her skin, returning it to the flame she waited. “Are you so sure? It is a long ride today and we won’t be stopping till nearly nightfall if we wish to reach the Shrine.” As the water began to heat up she took a strip of cloth and bundled up the mug’s contents before placing the small pouch back inside. 

“I….” holding his hands over his mouth he coughed. Getting up he raced behind their tent, emptying the water and bile from his belly. 

“Just fine, yes I caught that part.” Rolling her eyes, she gave the water a stir and dumped the pouch into the pot. “Just fine, that’s why you’re watering the grass with your stomach.” Seeing the water begin to turn colour and steam begin to form she gave it another good stir before pulling the pot and filling the cup. Blowing the steam off the top of the mug she waited for him to return.

Stumbling back to sit beside her he held out his hand for the cup, “you win.” Sipping carefully at the brew he felt near instant relief between his eyes as the pounding and stabbing ache began to taper off. “How…”

“I told you, Dalish.” Rubbing his shoulder, she sighed, “will you be well at the Shrine? We aren’t even that close and the lyrium…”

“I can handle it.” His reply was short and snippy. Before he could apologize Bull came out of the tent, Dorian’s frazzled head poking out around him. “I thought I heard you two up. Morning boss,” stretching Bull plunked himself down by the fire.

Diana rose sharply, “I think I saw a couple bird’s nests over there. Breakfast will be ready shortly.” Turning on her heel she stamped off into the woods. 

Cullen was in a sour mood the rest of the journey. Not uttering more than the odd word here or there. Diana ignored him, laughing and cuddling up to Bull and Dorian. Varric joined in the odd game of Wicked Grace around the camp fire. 

By the time they made their final camp it was a couple hours hard ride to the Shrine. Diana was on edge having pointed out the tracks of red templars. “They’re old. Nothing recent. For a possible fortress up ahead, it is lightly guarded. Not a single archer in the midst.” Brushing her gloves off she paced into the under brush ahead of them as Bull and Dorian set up camp. 

“You planning on clubbing her over the head with your attitude or do you plan on apologizing any time soon?” Dorian sighed as he nearly tripped over Bull’s foot.

Growling Cullen snapped at Dorian, “I have done neither. We have a goal in mind. Stop Samson, once that is done…”

Varric shook his head and tugged on Dorian’s arm, “leave him. Curly’s in full withdrawal. That red shit might be getting to him already. We past enough of it getting here. Let him brood. He might actually beat Hero with that attitude.” 

Taking the small hatchet from the horses, Cullen ignored them as he went about gathering firewood for the night. They were close. So very close and he could almost feel Samson’s presence. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now.

Red lyrium. He’d been close to it before, heard the sick song it poured out. It wasn’t a sweet siren, beckoning him into her delicate embrace. Red lyrium was angry, and bitter and it wished to strangle him. To flood through his body and drown out everything. It promised nothing delicate, only destruction. Yet, it called to him. His hands shook when they passed the large spires, bodies of templars imprisoned within the hunks of crystal. He was angry then, and he was angry still. 

Samson had made a mockery of them. The Order and what it once stood for. Debasing it with the red lyrium, Corypheus and soon he would put an end to him. Chopping away he hadn’t felt the slip of the ax, hadn’t felt the bite of the blade as it grazed his hand. Nor did he feel the warm wet begin to trick down to the grass.

“Cullen, you’re bleeding,” Dorian’s voice was calm and questioning as Cullen looked up at him. “Pardon?” he hadn’t registered the words, or what he was talking to. Then his world went black.

“Princess we have a problem!” Varric shouted out, knowing he shouldn’t have but they needed her. Scampering to Dorian’s side he shook his head, “what’s wrong with him Sparkler? Can’t you do anything?”

“Healing wasn’t my best class in school. I know enough to stop the bleeding but other than that…”

Bull stretched Cullen out by the fire, keeping him warm as Dorian sealed the wound to his hand. “Anything I can do?” 

“We can’t do anything till Princess returns. We could be up to our necks in reds if we aren’t careful.” Varric paced back and forth, keeping his eyes to the tree lines, and Bianca ready to fire. 

Drifting, a floating sensation carried him away through the darkness that surrounded him. ‘Am I dead?’ he wondered as the ground became solid under his feet. At least they felt like feet. Feet rooted in heavy plate boots, bent in prayer. “Shall the Maker be my guide,” he could hear the words, his voice, saying them softly. When he looked down he recognized the colours of the order, his vambraces with the emblem hammered into their faces. It was the smell that grabbed him, blood and fire. ‘No…’ his voice wasn’t coming out, only the prayer uttered and unbreaking. He went to scream, and nothing came out. Went to run but his legs refused to move. 

“Come little templar, let me show you the power that awaits you.” Uldred’s voice was in his head, around him and sinking through his skin. He could hear himself uttering the chant, not breaking from his prayers, not looking up into the eyes of the mad man. It wasn’t the demon he remembered. No instead he felt the icy cold, push and crush his legs together. The cold creeping in began to warm, looking down he tried to scream, struggled to move. Red lyrium crystal was creeping up his legs, burying him inside like a tomb, like the reds on the road. As it slowly crawled over his legs and up his waist he could hear Uldred taunting him, “soon, you’ll be just like us.” It was getting hotter, scalding his skin and choking the air from his lungs and just when he thought it was over, that he would perish, his eyes opened wide and he was staring up at the blank canvas ceiling of his tent.  
“Might want to take it easy,” Diana’s voice was soft and close to him, her fingers running over his chest. His bare chest. “Sorry, you had a reaction to the red lyrium. Must have been when we past through that patch a few hours back. Your withdrawal plus that nasty shit, no good.” She brushed a few of his damp curls from his fore head, “you blacked out and mumbled some things. Bull brought you inside, so I could tend to you in privacy. What little a tent can afford.”

He was dizzy, and things were still foggy as he tried to grasp what she was saying. “I….”

“Shhh,” she tenderly stroked his forehead. “It’s late, the sun had gone from the sky. I wouldn’t eat yet, but I have some water and bread here if you wish to try. Dorian did his best to ease the fever. He’s no healer.” Wringing a clothe out she returned it to his head, “I have a poultice I applied to your chest, trying to pull out the toxins. It seemed to have brought you out of your haze.” 

Everything was spinning, and his head felt twice it’s normal size, “Diana…”

“Well it is nice to hear my name for the first time today,” sighing Diana went about mixing something in a cup. “I have this for you to drink. Come on, up you go.” Pulling him into her lap she held out the cup.

Sipping at it slowly he felt the pain ease from his body and his vision clear, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t start that now,” Diana carded her hand through his hair, brushing the few coils from the edge of his face. “Perhaps you should head back. We can advance on the Shrine.”  
“No!” He snapped up, his body whirling and head swimming as he struggled to sit on his own. “He is my responsibility.”

Diana was cross now, “why? Because he was a templar?”

Groaning Cullen eased into a lazy sit, “no and yes. When I arrived at Kirkwall all those years ago, he was my room mate. When they cast him out of the order, for the smallest offense, I said nothing. Perhaps if I had… done something.” Throwing his hands up in defeat he hung his head. “He has made a mockery of everything, Diana. Everything that the Order stood for, the hope and the righteous…”

“Lord Seeker Lucius did that. When he joined the Promisers, and killed half their order if not more. Samson is a bastard, and I will agree with that, but you can’t be responsible for every mad man with delusions of glory.” Huffing she shook her head, “you leave too much upon your shoulders, and it’s a wonder why they are starting to crack.” 

“What?” Cullen glared at her, a flush of anger blooming through his chest. “I was a templar, I knew…”

“You knew nothing. You take on too much, and when it falls through you turn to anger.” Raising her hands, she dusted her pants off, “I need air, before I say something unworthy of myself.”

Cullen sat back, jaw gritted tight as he watched her leave. Drinking back the last of the mug he threw himself back down upon the bedroll. Tomorrow morning, he would ride off, no matter what, to stop Samson. He needed to be prepared.


	3. Testing Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning** battle, some blood and gore. Nothing extensive but the warning is still there

Diana sat by the fire, the night air chilling her back as she warmed her hands, “any more logs?”

Bull slide her a heavy section of wood, “this will burn through the night.” 

Placing it on the fire pit she shivered, “cold, why is it so cold?”

“Because we are close to death,” Dorian sighed, “I can feel it in the air, Diana. Something isn’t right.”

“Oh, I knew that. Not enough guards for a little fortress. The tracks are a couple days old. Get anything?” Diana looked over as Dorian toyed with a spirit from the Veil.

“Nothing, the red lyrium makes them afraid and twists them against their will. Too easy to summon demons here,” sitting beside her, he wrapped his arm around her. “You’re freezing. You should get some rest.” Seeing the look in her eye he sighed, and hugged her tightly, “he’ll be ok. It’s just the effects of the lyrium. Once we’ve put some distance….”

“I know.” Her voice was flat as she snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth from his body. “It doesn’t cut the pain any.” Before her, the fire was beginning to flare and come to life, as it toyed with the new fuel. Its warmth helped slow her shaking and eventually she bid them a good night before slipping into the tent with Cullen. From what she could tell he was asleep and she was thankful for that mercy. Curling into herself she tried to let the days events pass away. Tried to forget the name that hovered over his lips, “Evelyn Amell.” He had moaned it more than enough times to have her seeing a few shades of red. When he was well enough to talk, she was going to ask him. Going to make him answer it.   
As the heat from the morning sun warmed her tent she lazily rolled over. Fluttering her eyes, she realized she’d slept through the night. Terror gripped her chest as she bolted upright, “Cullen?” When he didn’t return her calls, she went to his bedroll. Pulling back his blanket, she nearly shrieked. “He’s gone!”

“Yes,” Varric sighed as he pulled the flap back, “he raced off this morning. There was smoke coming from the Shrine. Bull figures they ghosted the camp, but Curly wasn’t having any of it.” Offering her his hand, he pulled her into the light. 

Thick clouds of dark smoke came billowing over the tree tops. “That would explain the lack of guards, and patrols. Damnit,” shaking her head she turned to her squad, “we leave everything here. We don’t have time to pack up. We need to suit up and get to that Shrine before he does something foolish.” 

Dressing in her armor as quickly as she could she strapped her sword to her side, before mounting her horse. “Hurry, there are likely to be some forces remaining.”

Racing off, she rode her horse as hard as she could. Not knowing how much of a lead Cullen had on them, or the total number of enemy forces they’d likely face. Smoke rolled down and caught in the breeze, stinging her throat and eyes. As they drew closer she could hear it. Battle. Sword cutting against sword and shield bashing against armor. “Where is Samson!?” His roar filled the air as they stopped the horses just shy of the main gate. Diana jumped down, “they’ve already left. Whatever is here is meant to stop us. Do not worry about the horses, shackle them to the gate.” 

Bull took the reigns in his massive hands as he tied them through the wrought iron spindles of the gate. “All good boss, rush in?”

“Got no choice. Focus on the big bastards, Dorian, a little cover please. Varric stay down, time your shots. I’ve got Cullen’s back.” Drawing her blade, she marched forward. There was no rush, there couldn’t have been more than a dozen men in the court yard and Varric just put down the lone archer. 

He was busy hacking and slashing away, tearing men down piece by piece as he screamed for Samson. Getting in close. She could see the arrow hanging out of his shoulder. Had it gone in? Was it simply caught on his mantle or pauldrons? She had to push the thought from her mind. Blocking the brute attacking from the rear she gritted, “trying to play hero now? Are you sure you don’t want a piece in Varric’s next novel, Collin?” 

Cullen let out a roar as he drove his blade into the exposed neck of the red templar, before ripping it sideways and lopping the head off the man. “This is no joke.” Rushing forward he charged towards the main doors.

“Cullen!” Diana yelled as she returned her focus to the red before her. 

Dorian and Varric were busy leveling the few remaining men in the field, Bull rushing to lend aid to Cullen. Pushing her blade through her enemy she wheeled around just in time, as the two main doors were smashed into splints. In the next moment she barely caught a glimpse of the crystalline form of the behemoth. It’s scream pierced through her, leveling her to the ground. The sound was everywhere. Inside her, surrounded her and shot through her, making her vision blur and her eyes water. Struggling against it she knelt and tried to get to her feet. 

“We need to whittle it down,” Bull yelled across the field. 

“Dorian,” Diana groaned out, seeing the mage get in close to her. “Waking bomb?”

Taking a lyrium potion from his pouch he nodded, “it’ll make a mess. We all need to get behind cover before I…”

“I know. Bull!” Yelling across the field she saw him duck under the hulking ax like arm of the gigantic horror. “Knock it down, Dorian has it from there. You’ll need cover!” 

Varric moaned, “not that,” firing off a volley into the creature’s backside he rolled away to duck behind a broken wall. 

Bull grabbed Cullen’s mantle and quickly hauled him out of the arching path of the next lumbering attack, “they’re slow, but they hit like giants. Dorian’s going to use his necromancy shit. Take its legs out and get to cover!” Standing him straight up he patted his shoulder, “be careful with all this blood. It’s tainted with that red shit.” 

Cullen grunted as he pointed his sword towards the beast’s leg, “there. We take out and the thing will fall. Then Dorian can do whatever he needs to.”

Laughing Bull regripped his ax, “now we’re talking!” 

Together they rushed the creature, its slow movements making it easy to counter but it still posed a threat. Cullen slid in first, upon the caps of his knee guards, he slashed at the beast’s leg before rolling and getting a safe distance. It teetered, and Bull rushed in to take it to the ground. Heaving his ax as hard as he could he drove it into the same spot as Cullen. Metal and crystal ringing out. As Bull tugged at his ax, it tumbled forward, causing Bull to nearly lose his footing. 

Dorian watching it got down as he summoned the energy from the Veil. Mumbling his lips his hands flared a soft lavender as he worked to warp and bind the arcane energies. Grinning wide he cast it forward, a perfectly formed ball of glowing energy burst into the back of the creature. “Get to cover!” Keeping his focus on the thing, he got behind a thick column. Waiting for each person to answer back, he summoned the force required to activate the second half of the spell. 

Cullen was huddled with Bull inside the entry way of the building, “what is he…” The explosion filled the air and sent a shockwave of pressure through, causing the oxygen to rush from Cullen’s lungs. Doubling over he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Take a moment,” Bull patted his back, “waking bomb’s power is effected by the size of the target. He was a big bastard.”

Diana shook off the throbbing between her ears, “you alright Dorian? That was, intense.”

Panting, Dorian was leaning against his staff, “I shall recover. Go, it’s safe out here. Get inside. I’ll be right behind you.” Waving her off he gave a weak smile. 

Not wanting to leave Dorian, but not hearing a sound coming from the entrance she struggled. “Dorian…”

“Go,” he straightened, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “I am right here.” 

Stepping over the bits of crystal material and gore she scrunched her nose up at the hunk of flesh left over from the spell. Whatever they did to create that monster, was barbaric. Hearing fighting from within she hurried inside. Fire still crackling away in the lower levels she nearly choked on the smell of burnt flesh. As her eyes adjusted to the lower light, and the smoke, she saw Bull and Cullen dispatch the last remaining red templars. Sheathing her blade and shouldering her shield she coughed into her hand, “we need to put out some of these…” Cullen pushed past Bull and stormed deeper into the Shrine. “Or we can recklessly trudge forward and see what traps they had.” Rolling her eyes, she looked over to Bull and Varric as Dorian came bounding behind her. “We need to salvage anything that might help us locate or stop Samson. All documents, anything unique. I’m going after Cullen.” 

“Be careful,” Dorian took her arm, “this close it’s got to be getting to him. Expect aggression, paranoia, and…”

“I shall be careful, but be prepared. The sooner we find something, the sooner we can leave,” looking around there was spidered veins of red lyrium woven into nearly every wall. “It’s testing my patience.” Walking through the burnt remains of several men and more of the eerie gem. “Cullen,” she called his name a few times before he returned her call, a sense of urgency about her name as he called for her, “Inquisitor!”

Rushing towards the sound of his voice she was aware of the room, it wasn’t the same as the other’s she’d travelled through. This was clearly a bedroom, and it wasn’t that much of a stretch to assume it was Samson’s sleeping quarters. Seeing Cullen wave her over to the edge of he bed, she saw something move. Coming around a long table, she finally made out the object. Huddled at the foot of the bed, was a man, dressed in mage robes. “Who…”

“Maddox, Inquisitor.” His monotone voice and the Chantry sunburst scar upon his forehead answered some of her questions. “The Knight-Captain found me. I apologize for your discomfort.”

“He’s dying,” she dropped to her knees before him. “Why? We meant you no harm, friend.” Taking the young man’s hand in hers, she could feel the life ebbing from him. 

“I could not risk speaking with you. Samson needed time to get away.” His glossy eyes returned to Cullen, “I took my entire supply of blight cap essence. I am sorry, Knight-Captain.” Giving a faint smile, his head lilted to the side, as the last of his spark, flickered out. 

Cullen’s fists were balled tight and his teeth clenched. Standing sharply, he let out a pained howl as he ripped the curtains from the bed. Bundling them in his arms, he tugged and tore at them as he cast them away from himself. 

Diana tried to block his anger, tried to focus on the man before her. Reaching up she closed his eyes and uttered a soft prayer. She wasn’t as devout as she should be, but she couldn’t allow the man to pass without some rights. Easing him to the floor she finished the prayer. 

“Inquisitor! Varric believes we’ve found something!” Dorian yelled down the halls. 

Getting to her feet she calmly walked towards them, making a mental note that someone or something needed to be done about Maddox. He deserved better than to be left to rot inside the Shrine. Letting the thought flutter away from her she walked into a room, next to Samson’s chambers, “what have my dear friends found for me today? Something damning I hope.”

“Tools,” Varric held up a large key ring with tools of odd shapes and sizes. “Tranquil tools, usually used to craft runes and other complicated magical shit. Might be useful.”

“Were they in better condition and not charred, they would fetch several thousand sovereigns in Minrathous.” Dorian sighed, rubbing at his temples. “We should leave. There isn’t anything else here and this place is getting to me.” Dorian’s eyes fluttered and Diana bit her lip. “Bull, get him out of here. Varric bag up the tools, grab any letters or parchment and follow them. I’ll get Cullen. Head to the camp. We’ll make our way to Skyhold tomorrow.” Diana smiled weakly as Bull wrapped his arm around Dorian and helped him out of the building.


	4. Possessiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****WARNING**** This chapter explores the side effect of Possessiveness and paranoia, that red lyrium brings out. There is a rape moment, and while I stand that it fits with the scenario, some may find it upsetting. There is the warning, read at your own risk.

Pacing back into the room, she watched as Cullen kicked a stack of empty lyrium vials. “Cull…”

“Licked clean, not a drop left,” his voice was a low menacing tone as he turned to face her. “He left a letter for me. A letter.” Holding up the parchment in his hand he snarled, “he knew I was coming, and he fled.” 

“We found Maddox’s tools. Dagna can use them, perhaps to craft something to disrupt his armor. We can leave here.” Remaining still she knew better. Red lyrium made people monsters well before it claimed them and with his body already fighting the regular stuff, he was susceptible to the red’s pull.

Shaking his head, it was like a hammer tapping into the base of his skull. Everything ached, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could tolerate. Yet, he felt like he was missing something. “Have we searched…”

“There isn’t anything left to search. Most doors are smashed, or ablaze. They destroyed much of the Shrine. Only a few rooms remain.” Diana sighed, “come, you need to get away from here.”

“Why? What are you keeping from me?” He was in her face before she could react. “Why…”

“Red lyrium,” trying to make herself as unimposing as she could she looked about. “Its everywhere. If we linger, we risk much.” Searching his eyes, she saw the confusion, “you want to take me away from here. Make sure I’m safe.” Softening her voice, she saw him give his head a shake as his hand flew to his temple. 

He took a few steps before he uttered a word, “let’s go.” 

In silence she watched his every movement, careful to keep her distance as they finally arrived into the court yard. It wasn’t a success. There was no Samson, no answers and far too much death. Maddox’s placid face bothered her the most. She’d seen a lot of death, dealt almost as much as well, but nothing like a man sacrificing himself like he did. Blight cap essence was a terrible way to go. Painful, and slow. He must have taken them when they finished lighting the fires. By her best guess, Maddox had to have sat there, suffering, for a several hours. All to save a man, set on seeing Thedas burn. She couldn’t wrap her head about it. 

Reaching the horses Cullen was quiet. Seething under the surface. He knew Maddox. Remembered the brand, remembered feeling nothing as he pressed it to his forehead all those years ago. One of his failures. “Love letters,” he spat out the words as they road towards camp. Was it such a crime to feel love? To wish to be loved? Yet when Meredith uttered down the words, he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even think twice about it, and lost even less sleep. Maddox’s pale face, and his eyes as his life slipped away would be one more to haunt his dreams. Trotting down the path his skull was on fire, the ache in his body like knives stabbing into him. 

Diana whistled, “there is a small spring over this way. A quick dip in the water, may ease your aches. If you wish,” again she watched him. Being cautious not to tease or taunt him. Hearing him grunt she road slightly ahead of him, “this way, please.” 

Easing her horse towards the small crop of brush, she dismounted and tied the reigns about a looming oak branch. Carefully removing her armor, she laid the pieces out, taking a strip of rag from her horse pack, she dipped it into the water. It was warm. Far warmer than she expected, and she was glad it was. Wiping away the blood and mess from her armor she tried to take her mind away from everything. Away from the Shrine, and what lay ahead. 

Cullen rode beside her horse and fastened the reigns with hers. When he dropped down, his knees whined at the sudden impact, and the shock to his joints. Clenching his jaw, he was angry still. Removing his armor, he was careless, letting each piece loudly clang to the ground below. When he stood in just his linen shirt and breeches, he felt some relief. Feeling the air filter through his shirt, it seemed to breathe new life into him. Walking over to the water’s edge, he squatted down, and dipped his hand in. 

“It’s warm. Warmer than I thought. Dorian is going to be mad I didn’t tell them about this little oasis.” Diana snickered, as she worked on unbuttoning her shirt. 

Cullen’s head snapped around, “you share a lot with Dorian, don’t you?” His tone was questioning and harsh. Flicking his hand, letting the water splatter against the water’s surface, he ripped his shirt over his head. “Get in the water.” 

Already tugging her leggings down, she shook her head, “of course.” Discarding the last of her undergarments beside her armor, she clutched her breasts in her arms as she stepped into the water. Before she could get fully into the water, Cullen had her wrapped up in his arms. 

“What is going on between you and Dorian?” His eyes were scanning hers, watching every movement she made. 

“Dorian? He’s my cousin,” letting an innocence giggle pass her lips she shook her head, “Cullen Rutherford, are you….” She grunted, letting out a sharp yelp as his fist wound tightly in her hair, snapped her head back. His face was hot, and breath sweltering against her neck. This wasn’t like him. Not at all like him. 

“You are mine,” he snarled against her pulse, breathing in her scent. Everything was cloudy, and he was vaguely aware of what he was doing. Only just aware. His head was swelling, and the sounds coming from around him didn’t register. Neither did his actions or exactly what he was saying. 

Diana struggled against his hold, but he overpowered her easily. His size and the red lyrium granting him a boost in strength she hadn’t accounted for. His lips were on her neck, fingers painfully plying her skin. “Cullen, stop.” She pleaded with him as he bit her shoulder, teeth sinking in till skin broke. “Stop, Cullen, stop!” Shrieking, the pain was blinding in her shoulder. “Damnit, snap out of it!” 

“Mine,” was all he returned as he forced himself inside of her. Clamping her tightly against himself, he slammed into her. There was no gentle Cullen, no love, no emotion behind his eyes as he continued to fuck her. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she all but gave up. He was too strong, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Once he finished, she felt stunned. Staying in the water she washed herself, turning her back on him as he dressed and rode back to camp. She refused to leave the water till she could calm herself. Slowly trotting back to camp, she hid the marks on her shoulder. Hid her face, as she arrived in the settling dusk. Roping off the horse she slipped down, not seeing Cullen about she quietly turned to Dorian, “where…”

“He arrived several hours ago. Mumbled something repulsive at me regarding your nether regions and flopped over. He frothed at the mouth for a few seconds, convulsed and then passed out.” Massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers he groaned. “We cleaned him up, and threw him in his tent. Bull was rather… upset, with his choice of words.” 

“Red lyrium. Possessiveness, paranoia, and delusions.” Keeping her head low she cringed, “by morning it will have worked its way through his system.” 

Dorian chuckled, “by morning, Bull won’t want to turn him into a horn ornament.” 

Sliding the scarf to the side she uttered a hiss, “not a word. He… it’s not his fault.” 

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian ran his finger over it. “I can’t… I can clean it, heal it, but there will be a scar. It’s too ragged to come clean. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” she tried to swallow the sickness boiling in her belly, “there are worse things.”


	5. Stronger

Delirious, fever induced delusions fueled his night as he slipped in and out of a broken sleep. Her face haunted him. Evelyn Amell. His first kiss, first moment he broke his vows, and the moment he swore he would never break them again. Before she left, joining the ranks of the Grey Wardens, she was a book worm. Quiet and unassuming but beautiful and smart. Kind and always warm. He remembered the first time he saw her, when he attended his first phylactery. The young boy they brought in was barely of nine years. His face red from crying, and the two senior templars by his sides showed little remorse. 

She was there. Standing beside First Enchanter Irving. Holding the boys hand, and tenderly sending waves of soothing cooling to his palm, where Irving took the stiletto and drew a bit of blood. As the last drop bubbled and began to glow in the vial, she healed his wound, sending more soothing icy magic to his hand. He saw her cradle the boy tightly, while Irving handed the new vial to Knight-Commander Greagoir. 

“Don’t be frightened, there are more children inside. Special like you. You’ll make wonderful friends.” She stroked the boy’s shaggy hair from his face. “A hot bath, and warm meal everyday. We’ll even clean that mop of hair, have you looking like a young prince.” The boys face went from sad to excited as she spoke, and it tugged at him. From that moment he wanted to meet her. Wanted to know who this spirit of compassion was that cooed and eased the tears from the lad. 

A few weeks went by and he was busy learning the patrols, and ways that the templars managed Kinloch, but her face never left his mind. Icy blue eyes, pale alabaster skin, with dirty blonde hair tied in braids and pinned upon the crown of her head. She was beautiful, without trying, without make up or fancy clothing. He had seen her several times, in the library, working with the young ones as she slipped them treats. He always smiled near her, and when Knight-Commander got word of his wandering eye, he came down in the hardest way he could. “You, when apprentice Evelyn Amell preforms her harrowing, you will be part of the templars standing by.”

He remembered how his mouth went dry. How the saliva in his throat seemed to thicken and choke him, “me, ser?”

“Yes, Rutherford. You. If she is to turn, you are the one to strike the killing blow.” His eyes were set on him and it burrowed through him. Snapping to attention best he could he bowed, “it is an honor to serve, ser.” Cullen wanted to get out of there. Wanted to rush down the hall and disappear. When Greagoir finally let him go, he was sweating heavily under his plate. 

“Are you well, Cullen?” her face was right there, a bright smile and calm presence.

“I… I am fine. How are you?” his eyes darted about, to see the room was empty save for him and her.

Giggling softly, she tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Just finished my tasks for the First Enchanter. I take my harrowing tomorrow,” she was proud, standing tall, as she fidgeted with the cuffs of her robe. “I heard, you would be there.”

“You… you know?” His cheeks were red hot as he stood uncomfortably. “I have all the faith that you shall pass your harrowing.” 

Now it was her turn to blush. Looking about she licked her lips, “then may I? For luck?” 

He wasn’t sure what she meant, and inside he wished to give her the best chance at her harrowing. “You may.” Still unsure what she was saying, he was surprised when her lips pressed against his. It was like electricity, shooting over ever nerve in his body and the pit of his stomach cartwheeled. Even his armor seemed to get lighter.

When she broke the kiss, and it was all her, he was left dumbstruck. Staring, blinking blankly all he could utter was a meek, “thank you.” Which made her giggle again before she promised to come visit him after her harrowing. 

That kiss. It damned him, and it blessed him in one second. She did pass her harrowing. Even exposed a blood mage, and a false Chantry sister. But it wasn’t enough to save her. Only the presence of the Grey Warden Duncan saved her from Knight-Commander Greagoir’s wrath. It pained him greatly to watch her leave. Knowing he may never see her again, but he could not follow. 

Then when the Circle fell, he thought everything he knew was wrong. Every bit of breathing room he gave a young mage, was too much. Every bit of silent, privacy was time to plot ruination. He turned from his innocent youthfulness, and became cold, icy and calculating. 

Kirkwall formed the hatred, stirring it and breeding it within himself, to the point he almost didn’t recognize the man that looked back at him in the mirror. When the Champion of Kirkwall, finally rose to defend the city, to stop Meredith, he realized his error. Realized through the valiant and selfless acts of a mage, that they weren’t the horrors of Kinloch. Even as the templars flooded the city, trying to purge the Gallows, very few if any turned to blood magic. Those that became abominations, did so out of desperation, and fear. A last resort, when no aid was coming. It changed his mind, opened his eyes to the possibility that mages weren’t evil. Perhaps, evil was learned, or grown but it certainly wasn’t created at birth, or with the talent of magic. 

The dreams played out his history, in painful detail. Each moment, scent, and sensation overpowered and held him. Terror and anger, feeding into his fevered state. Several times he awoke, screaming, till his lungs ached, before flopping back down to lay in a pool of his already cooling sweat. 

Come morning, his head had returned to his normal state of groggy suffering. His hands were still cold, but not as icy as they had been. Running his hands over his face he felt better, if not just returned to his usual aches and discomforts. 

“Welcome back,” her voice shook as she spoke and for a moment he wasn’t sure she had utter words at all. “Diana?” 

She was tense, sitting a careful bit away from him. Having tended to his fever through the night, changing out the clothe for his head, the poultice upon his chest. It was in the weak hours of the morning the fever broke, and his screaming stopped. It took the last of Dorian’s energy to dampen the camp sounds to prevent lone red templars from finding them. 

Taking his time, he dragged himself into a sit, “how long…”

“Since your return from the….” Bitterly swallowing, she calmed herself, “small pool.”

“Pool… the last thing I remember was the behemoth at the gate. It…. It’s all hazy from there.” Gripping his head in his hands, he tried to think, tried to break through the blurry barrier that clogged his memory. “Did… Did we find Samson?” 

Easing a bit, Diana shook her head, “no. You found a letter he addressed to you, and Varric found Maddox’s tools. We believe Dagna may be able to create something with them to undo his armor. We’ll know for sure once we arrive at Skyhold.” 

Cullen could tell by the sound of her voice, things weren’t well. “What…” seeing her flinch he blinked a couple times. “Tell me….”

“Red lyrium. When you get close to it, it makes its victims paranoid at first, delusional, and possessive. Or so the reports I read from Leliana claimed.” Passing him a mug of cold water she gave a weak smile. “You probably don’t…”

“Your eyes are telling me more than your words. Please, if I have done wrong, I need to make it right.” Taking the mug, the cold water refreshed his mouth and calmed his stomach. 

“Perhaps some food, you haven’t eaten in nearly two days. We can talk…”

“No!” Cullen’s voice was stern, his usual Commander tone as he looked in her eyes. “Tell me the truth, Diana. I… I need to hear it. Spare me no detail.”

Wringing the cloth in her hands, she began the story. Starting with his rush to the Shrine. There was nothing she left out, as she squeezed her eyes shut, and her voice faltered as she went over every detail. “When I returned you were in here. Where I have tended to you, since. Hearing you….” Swallowing hard again she held back those tears threatening to drown her voice. “You kept calling for an Evelyn.” 

Sitting in shock at the details, he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t believe what he had done, “your… I…” 

Lighting a small candle, Diana moved closer, and tugged the scarf away from her shoulder. “This is the best it will ever be.” 

Opalescent imprints of his teeth, nearly perfect outside of the rough edges, lay upon the crook of her neck. He went to reach out and she pulled back, instinct overriding all else, “Maker’s breath Diana… I’m… I’m a monster.” 

“No!” her voice was meek and the words not as strong as she wanted them to be. “It was the red lyrium. It could have been anyone… it wasn’t your fault… you had no control…”

“Then why don’t you believe it?” Feeling stronger now, more himself he was angry with himself. “I owe Dorian and Bull an apology. Possibly a round in the ring.” Standing he felt the ground beneath him, and his feet firmly his. “I deserve nothing less.” 

Diana bit her lip as he calmly exited the tent, without his armor. Just his linen pants and shirt, boots firmly on. She listened hard and waited.

“Vishante kaffas, no Bull!’ Dorian put his arm across Bull’s chest as his nostrils flared out.

“No, Dorian. I slighted you and while the red lyrium would be easy to blame, I take responsibility.” Clasping his hands behind his back tightly, he made no motion to defend himself. “I…” looking to the ground, the image of Diana’s shoulder caught in his mind. “Please…” his words were a whisper as he clenched his jaw, ready for whatever Bull was going to do. 

Dorian could see the pain in Cullen’s eyes, the need… biting his cheek he looked back at Bull. While Bull was angry, he was also first and foremost a Qunari trained spy. He knew how to read people, how to manipulate and get the end he needed to get. Dorian prayed he was seeing the same thing, prayed he was thinking straight. Bull stepped in front of Dorian, his shoulder’s set back. “Did she tell you everything? Every detail?”

Barely getting the word out, he pushed it between his clenched teeth, “yes.”

Nodding Bull looked him in the eyes, “you are seeking pain for pain.”

“What I said to Dorian… what I did to her… please, I deserve no less.”

“You were not in control of yourself. Red lyrium…”

“NO!” Cullen shouted, his fists clenched now, tightly at his side. “I should have been stronger. I was supposed to protect her!”


	6. What Once Was

Diana was praying. Tearing pouring down her face. She’d heard him. Heard him yell, heard Bull argue back. Then silence. Gut wrenching, painful silence. She was too afraid to open the tent, to see whatever was on the other side. Then it came, the sound of Cullen grunt, a muffled groan that was clearly pained. Her body shook, and the tears stopped. Only to be replaced with silence. 

Cleaning herself up she tried to look presentable, like the strong Inquisitor she became every morning. Wiping her face down she tied her hair back before peeling back the flap.   
Cullen was doubled over, dry heaving on his side, Bull shaking his head over him. “Sorry boss.” Bull turned away and marched off into the tree line. Rolling to his knees, Cullen took in several gasping, utterances before he spit out a glob of blood, his lip split. 

“Do you feel better now? Does it hurt you less?” Diana shook her head, lifting his face tenderly into her palms. “You can’t blame yourself. Maker, for all the horrid things you’ve done in your life, this one is blame free.”

“I… I could have killed you.” He gritted the pain searing through him. Bull had delivered. One of the worst uppercuts to the gut he had ever experienced. Of course, the Qunari’s hand was nearly three times the size of the largest man he’d ever met. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to actually harm him, but the firm swat to his mouth had done the job in splitting his already dry lips. 

“Dorian, nearly fell to the same thing. Do you know what happened?” Forcing his eyes to see her, she was angry, “he passed out. Bull had to carry him back, and he promptly churned his stomach all over the grass along the road back to camp.” Turning her head, she snorted, “there is a small spring not far from here. Warm water, safe.”

“But he didn’t hurt anyone,” taking her hands, gently in his, tears began to flow from his eyes, “not you. Never you.” 

“This isn’t meant for everyone,” Varric waved his hands. “I’ll go get some dinner. Tiny, Sparkler, go have a soak.” Taking Bianca over his shoulder he plodded off, Bull and Dorian tightly behind him. 

Diana helped Cullen hobble to the log sitting by the fire. Throwing another section of wood on top, she sat beside him, “this has nothing to do with the lyrium. It’s about Evelyn, isn’t it?”

His back stiffened, the name brought back a flood of memories. “It… I thought it was in the past.”

“She isn’t. You called for her, tried to profess your love for her, then you hated her. It was… intense.” Diana poked at the fire with a twig, watching the sparks dance as she knocked bits of charred wood away. 

“I was young, just barely taken my vows and I was full of boyish naivety.” Sighing he hung his head, “she was a mage girl. As young as I was, and we caught each other’s eye. At least I had hoped so.” Groaning he ran his hands through his hair. “We… we kissed, and I thought my life ended. I thought she was to be my everything. Young, stupid thoughts. She was a mage, I a templar. There was no way I was going to be with her forever. Her life was tied to the Circle, mine to protecting the mages inside. She left… You’d best remember her as the Hero of Ferelden.” 

“You knew the Hero?!” Gasping she nearly dropped the twig.

“Yes, and no. When she went to face the darkspawn horde, I was left behind. Not long from there, the blight hit Ferelden and Kinloch fell…” swallowing hard, he had omitted this telling of the tale from their night in the Winter Palace. “She… found me. Bloody, beaten, half dead and starved of lyrium. I was delirious. Desire had tried to use her image to corrupt my mind, to steal my soul, and when she arrived,” tossing a hand full of grass into the fire he clenched his eyes shut, “she couldn’t free me. I remember her banging her fists on the energy cell. Promising me, she would see me freed. Do you know what I said? What I did?”

Diana shook her head, seeing the anguish in his eyes as he spoke. “No, I don’t…”

“I told her to kill them all. I wanted the Right of Annulment. To purge the Circle of every living mage. Because with the power they wield, none should be trusted. They were a threat to everyone and everything.” Soft tears pattered upon the ground, as he struggled to get it out. Struggled to say the words so long trapping inside, like he had been. “She went up into the harrowing chamber, her small band of companions by her side, and they killed Uldred, saved the few remaining mages, and the First Enchanter. I begged Knight-Commander Greagoir for the Right, starving, half dead, blood in my mouth and my body aching for lyrium…”

“You didn’t…”

“NO!” Slamming his fists into his lap he let a gust of air through his nose. “I wanted… I tried… as a reward I was sent to Kirkwall. Where I was fed double the normal dose of lyrium by my Knight-Commander, and led to believe all my hurtful, and hateful views were shared and to be celebrated and sanctioned. Yet, I would not go as far as she liked. Perhaps that was why she gave me so much extra lyrium, to keep me compliant.” Taking in a deeper breath, till his lungs hurt he held it before letting it out in a long, controlled breath. “Evelyn… bore the brunt of my anger for years. I blamed her for corrupting my vows. For making me blind to Uldred and his minions. It was wrong of me. I… wish I could have told her that before…”

“She died at the final battle of the Fifth Blight,” Diana nodded. “You have come so far Cullen Stanton Rutherford. You are no child.”

“Am I? Look what I did…” his hands shook, as he moved the scarf, his cool fingertips circling the scar. “This will never heal…”

Taking his hand in hers, she placed it over her heart, “but this can. And while I am hurting, and it will be a while for me to be comfortable in my skin, I still care for you. I still love you Cullen.” 

“I do not deserve….”

Taking his face tenderly in her hands, she wiped the dried blood from his lip, “no. You deserve this and more. You deserve to still be that innocent curly headed young man, with dreams and stars in his eyes.” Pressing a warm kiss to the tip of his nose she sighed, “we’re all broken, remember.” Placing her hand inside of his, she smiled, “they’ll give us an hour, maybe two with that little oasis out here.” Rising she took his hand, pulling him up, “come with me.” 

“Diana…” he didn’t struggle, despite the words from his lips, he willingly followed. As she held open the flap to the tent, he ducked under, “you have something for my lip, and possible cracked ribs,” groaning he half collapsed onto the bedroll. 

“Of course, you know I do,” chuckling, her chest was in the corner of the tent. Digging through her powders, she quickly grabbed a couple items before returning to his side. “Hold still,” pressing a bit of deep green paste to his lip, it quickly sealed over. Dropping a pinch of dark purple powder into the mug and filling it with water she grinned, “it’ll work. Trust me.”

“Do I have to sip?”

“No, you can knock it back. Just be prepared for an awkward moment.” Smirking she watched him gulp the drink down in two mouth fulls. As he put the cup down he gripped his sides, before letting out a weak belch. “There it is. Better?” 

“It... it doesn’t hurt when I breathe,” embarrassed with the sound that came from him he went to apologize, but she was in his lap, sinking down to settle herself. “Diana…”

“Hush. I need you. I need you to erase the red lyrium templar in the water. I need to feel the real you inside me. My Cullen, making love to me. I… I have to erase those dead eyes from my mind.” Draping her arms over his shoulders, she brushed her nose against his, “please. Make it go away.” 

His hands shook, and his words failed, “what if… I can’t…”

Brushing some of his hair back from his face, she pressed another kiss to his forehead, “you won’t. You’re real. I’m looking into the eyes of my Cullen. My Commander, and he would never, ever hurt me.”


	7. Erasing the Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT, there is LOADS OF SMUT ahead

Everything was different. He kissed her, like it was their first time together. Taking each breath, each moment and letting it evolve into a life of its own. With care, he unbuttoned each buckle, clasp and hook of her shirt. Kissing each new inch of exposed skin, as she sighed. Slipping the shirt over her shoulder, he wanted to make that scar disappear. Make it right, but what was done, was done. He pressed his lips to it, felt her shiver, then he dragged his tongue over each indent, before wrapping his lips over it. Matching the original marks, he bit. Slowly adding pressure till he felt her whine begin to echo pain. He let up, once again lavishing the mark with his tongue and open mouth kisses. 

Letting the shirt fall he took his time, pressing his lips along her collarbone and down the valley of her breasts. Stopping once he hit her bra band, he dipped his finger inside, his eyes flicked up to meet hers. She was watching him, through half open eyes, her mouth agape and her breath skipping. “Are you sure of this? We don’t have to…”

“Please, Cullen please, I can’t…” Sitting in his lap, she was leaned backwards, her arms holding her up. 

Reaching around back, he removed her bra band, letting it brush against her skin as it fluttered to the floor. Easing her back to the bedroll he sighed, “you are so beautiful, Diana.” Kneeling between her legs, he tugged his own shirt off. Laying it beside her, no rush, no urgency in his motions. 

Diana moved her arms over her head, as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, “Cullen…” 

He eased her hands apart, shaking his head, “no one owns you.” Leaning down, he captured her lips, as he guided one of her hands to his face. Canting his head, he deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue off hers, before she returned his moves with a heavy sigh. Pulling away, he punctuated each word with a tease of his lips against hers, “I want you to touch me. Do not hold back. Feel my body against yours.” 

He had barely begun, his slow, and sensual exploration of her body, and already, she was drowning. Floating away on the high he was pulling her towards. Washing away the events of earlier. His lips continued to worship her form as he slowly teased the ties of her pants. Slipping them down as he adored the delicate skin of her thighs, the thick sinewy muscle of her calves, even the way her ankle dipped, and the bone sat prominent. A part of her she loathed, that no one knew, and she felt like the blessed Andraste herself, under the careful and heartfelt attention Cullen was spending on her. 

His hearing was heightened and focused upon her body. Waiting for each time she drew in a breath, each time her gasps clipped tight in her chest. They still had to be quiet, and she was trying so hard. Getting to her navel he ran his nose over the tender skin leading to the edge of her smalls. With a single finger he hooked the corner and as he inched them down, he again bathed the new skin in open mouth kisses, a carefully trail tongue, or a playful nip. Dragging them over her calves, he groaned watching the muscle, slid as the band rolled down to her ankles before she delicately pointed her toes and he easily lifted them free. Again, starting new, at her ankles he kissed his way up, easing her leg apart. One ankle hooked over his shoulder his hands left her to untie his own pants. 

She hummed again at the pleasant and now familiar feel of his few day-old stubble scratching at her skin. He looked different with nearly a week’s growth of beard. Not the younger man, but an older, more experienced and wiser warrior, the flecks of grey already starting to creep into the thickest part of his chin hairs. Her fingers moved, acting without thinking as she ran them through his hair, which too had grown. Grown long enough that she could nearly collect a hearty handful, and by the Maker she did. Fists filled with golden coils as he finally descended upon her molten core. That skillful tongue, edged the sides of her mounds, tantalizing and tease just above and just below where she needed it now. Where she was ready to scream for it. 

Pressing his lips against her, he hummed, “did you need something? Need me?” 

Panting Diana’s back was arching up off the bedroll, her hips trapped under his solid forearm, “yes, please, Cullen, Maker…. I…” her mind was slipping out of her ears, it was turning to a puddle of incoherent mush as he dragged the tip of his tongue, just barely over her swollen nub. That little bit of contact had her keening, “oh, more, fuck more!” Her fingers dug in, forcing his mouth towards her core. 

“Diana,” his lips brush against her as he dragged out her name, “my love,” his tongue wrapping around nub, teasing her further, pushing her rapidly into a babbling mess of lust. Just how he wanted her. Drawing in her scent, deep and filling his lung, he puckered his lips and softly blew. Cool air, tingled and brought her over stimulated body over the edge. “Mhmm, yes.” Diving back in, he lapped at her sweet nectar. Drinking like a man deprived of such sinful delights his entire life, and perhaps he had been. 

“Cullen,” it was everywhere. Even after all they had already been through, it seemed he always found something new, some way of taking her higher. “Please, Maker, please!” She was begging, feeling the ache that needed him, needed him to fill her. By now he’d be throbbing, thick and dripping and she needed him. “Cullen…”

“I know,” kissing her thigh, he savoured every sound, and shudder, every scent and ever bit that was uniquely Diana. Peeling away his pants and smalls, he crawled over her. Again, laying kisses and heated palms over her body before, sink into her. 

His breath came out in staccato bursts as he seated himself flush fully inside of her. Her walls still clenching and pulling at him, “you… ah,” his moan was loud and long as he slowly dragged himself out till just the tip held her open. Then with the same patient motion, he filled her again. Each pass, had her mewling louder and longer and by the heat that was overwhelming him, he knew she was nearly ready to erupt again. 

Taking her leg in his hands, he massaged her thighs, rubbing and needing the muscles as he continued his soft pace. Grinning he could see her temples were damp, her scarlet hair was a mess over her face and she was half chewing her arm to stop from screaming. Her hips were pistoning against him, lifting her off the bedroll. Hooking her one leg over his shoulder, he slid in deeper still, her eyes blowing wide as his hands pulled and held her hips tightly against his. Lifting up on his knees, he wrapped an arm under her lower back, as he picked up his pace. With his free arm, he reached behind her and tucked his pillow under her, which increased the angle making her sigh. Running his hand over the firm muscle of her stomach he wondered, had to wonder. With all they had done, and the amount of times they had done it. Was it… But her hands pawing at him, her sighs and her increase in motion, knocked it from his mind. 

Licking his thumb, he circled her nub, “are you close?”

“Yes, please! Fuck me harder, I… I can’t.” She was writhing, against him and the added pressure of his hand, was rapidly driving her to another crescendo. Picking up his pace, his free hand fit perfectly into the curve of her hip. Drawing her in, tightly against each snap of his hips, he was feeling it building, boiling and bubbling to a point where his eyes were tearing up and his head was foggy. Forcing his eyes to remain open against the swelling pressure, they lingered over her body, up to her face. Seeing her own eyes clenched tightly, lost in the sensation surging through her. That’s when he was caught unaware. Her peak came at the same moment as his. Screwed firmly against her, hips in hand, his breathe trembled as she chanted his name, a chorus of blasphemous words strung together as her body anchored to his. 

Using great care, he eased her back down, slowly withdrawing from her, both uttering a mild grunt at the sudden loss. Laying beside her, he wrapped her in his arms, cradling her near his heart. “Diana…”

“No,” she pet his arm, as her energy waned and her hand made its way to the swell of his chest. “There are no words for this.” Smiling she placed a kiss upon his lips, sweet and simple. “I love you.” Chuckling sweetly, she pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the steady, drum like beating of his heart. “We need to get dressed, we haven’t eaten enough today and we’ll…”

“You sound like me,” Cullen sighed, running his fingers through her hair. Each silken coil of her scarlet tresses, spun around his calloused fingers. They’re dance mesmerizing and hypnotic. Soothing away his worries and fears. “Are you…”

“Perfect, now. If only it was back at Skyhold. I would order a warm bath, a tray of food, and a good bottle of wine.” Skimming her fingers over his abs, she sighed, “maybe one day. One day I won’t have to think about who I need to smile for, who I need to kill… a home…”

“Do you… do you ever wonder what your life would be like, if you hadn’t been the Inquisitor?” He was staring up at the pitched ceiling of the tent, his mind wondering to the fields. Seeing his father and mother toiling away in the dirt, planting the coming year’s harvest. His destiny had the templars not seen whatever they had in the little mop of bright curls when he ‘tried’ to impress them. Her movements pulled him back from his hazy memory.

“And miss knowing you? Never,” she had leaned up on her elbow and before she fully sat up she pressed one last kiss upon his lips. Soft and innocent. “Come on, dinner should be arriving shortly. Bet you Bull and Dorian have the rosiest cheeks, coming back from that pond.”

Laughing heartily, Cullen waved his hands before his face as he rose, “no, no I don’t want to know.” Chuckling harder he shook his head, “I won’t be able to look Dorian in the eye for some time.”

“You think the thought is uncomfortable. Try walking in on it… I never knew mages could light curtains on fire during sex…”


	8. Blood and Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Bull and Dorian were both red faced and giggly as they returned to camp. Something Diana couldn’t stop snickering over. Varric had brought in a couple good sized rabbits and all went to work to make dinner. Bull waved off Cullen’s apologies. It all seemed to be behind them as their night continued. Eating and talking they let the horrors of the last couple days pass by. Dorian more concerned for Diana than anything else. They made plans to take a less rushed approach to return to Skyhold and Diana wasn’t convinced they’d faced the end of the red templars from the Shrine. 

Come morning they began their ride home. Taking their time, and easing the horses along the road. Diana had returned to her usual iron self and Cullen wasn’t entirely sure their night was enough. He felt like he owed her so much more. Yet she had comforted him, and said over a dozen times that he was fine. 

Diana slowed her horse to match his. Leaning in she uttered softly, “we are being followed,” Diana lowered her voice as she steered her horse close to his, “they intend to ambush us at the pass, ahead.” She maintained her calm demeanor as she smiled, “don’t fuss too much, they’ll know we’re on to them. I haven’t got a proper count of their numbers, but I believe we are out maned.” Looking back over her shoulder she smiled to Bull, “the Commander wishes to stop up head, he needs a moment.” Turning back, she hissed, “play along.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind of course,” Cullen nodded over his shoulder. The hairs on his neck were standing as he followed Diana’s lead. Hoping down from his horse he handed the reigns to Diana. “I don’t understand your plan.”

Stifling a giggle, she tied the horses together and passed the reigns around a tree along their path, “take the advantage away. If we linger, they will grow impatient. Striking us in anger and hurry, losing their edge. It may not be a perfect win, but it assures us less aches come the morning.” The others clattered up to them jumping from their horses. “Be ready, it won’t be long. The fat one over there just sneezed,” she lilted her head towards a massive oak. “There’s at least a dozen of them, if not more. I can’t be sure. Lost count last night.”

“Last night?” Cullen half squeaked out as his thumb traced the pommel of his hilt. He had thought they had been lucky to walk away from the Shrine with no one giving chase. Now here was Diana pointing out too much for his brain to focus on.

Clicking her tongue Diana patted his arm, “don’t take it personally, Commander, you are an ex-templar not a seasoned tracker. I’m sure only the Dalish rival my skills. Now if I were you,” she pulled her sword and unhooked her buckler from her shoulder, “I would prepare. This is going to be a close one. Thankful they didn’t bring any archers.”

No sooner had she leveled her shield did the red templars spring from the woods. Cullen braced himself best he could, but panic rose in his chest. In the rush before he hadn’t seen her skill, and while her tracking and estimates of the red templars were accurate, could she back that with sword skill. His questions were being answer before him as she charged the first soldiers, her blade glinting in the late morning sun. 

Shields clashed as she slammed head long into the templar. Not risking a power struggle, she rammed into his shield and using the momentum, sprang off her feet and rolled around him. With no time to react she quickly found the weak spot in his armor and drove her blade in deep. Crimson splattered down the grooves of the blade, splashing along her gloved hand and the dirt path.   
Cullen couldn’t help the swell filling his chest and travelling even lower. There was a fluidic and gracefulness to her movements. Acrobatic strength and raw beauty as she dealt death. Giving his head a shake he refocused on the men pouring from the woods. 

Magic and metal seared and sang as they battled on. Smoke and blood filling the air as their group dealt measured death. Diana felt herself tiring, “we need to finish this, Dorian!” 

“I’m too pretty to die,” he howled as he cast out. Reaching in his robes he pulled another lyrium potion. Sucking it back quickly he shivered under the rush of power, “get behind me!” Everyone rushed towards Dorian seeing his hands pulse and swirl in a sparkling purple flare. Focusing the energy his lip quivered in a grand smirk. Casting out towards the largest guy he thrust the magic forward. “You may want to take cover,” he grunted forcing out a barrier before them, “and for those with tender stomachs, I wouldn’t look.” As he spoke the vibrant ball of magic entered the body before them. The red templar twitched, doubled over and let out a feral yelp before his eyes started to glow. “One more second,” Dorian grinned holding his open hand out. “and, now.” Dorian clenched his open hand into a tight fist. Magic flickered from his palm. The red templar’s back bent backwards sharply as he howled again. His howling burst as his body bubbled and his armor squealed as the metal twisted. In a bright flare of light, the man exploded, sending a shockwave of bone shards into the unsuspecting group of red templars surrounding him.

“Dorian…” Cullen groaned as blood sputtered out of the wretched corpses laying on the ground. Some of them still alive as they groaned and twitched along the ground. Gripping their wounds, sections of the man’s ribs imbedded in their faces, chests, limbs.

“Let’s end them quickly, they’ve suffered enough,” Diana smirked as she kicked at the one before her, “perhaps not quite enough.” Going about the wet work they finished off the men quickly, looting through to salvage anything useful. Once that was done, Diana slashed a section of fabric from a fallen templar and calmly strolled over to the small stream running by the road. Dipping her blade in she hummed to herself as she cleaned off the blood and matter. Wiping herself down she sheathed her sword and hooked her shield to her horse, “we should get to our campsite before the stars are forced to light our way.”

Cullen was dumbstruck. Her calm demeanor, a cool sense of strength and sureness that lit a sense of wonder and adoration deep in the pit of his gut. Clumsily following her lead, he climbed atop of his horse and followed closely behind her. He was mesmerized by the sway of her fiery hair as it hung down her back. How her shoulders rose and fell with the cantor of the stallion beneath her.   
“See something interesting, dear Commander,” Dorian bristled next to him. “Perhaps you should take the night off watch, you’re of little use to the group if you can’t focus.”

“I… I… uh…” he rubbed at the base of his neck, cheeks blooming a brilliant red.

“Hush, you are adorable, indeed,” Dorian chuckled as he kicked his horse up to meet with Diana. Cullen fumbled with the reigns as he tried not to look up. Keeping his head down he stumbled over what he would say to her once they made camp. Surely by now Dorian had told her of his boyish fawning. Trotting along he maintained his position with the group, only lifting his head once he caught the sound of feet hitting the ground before him. Stumbling along he jumped from his horse too. They must have arrived at their site. 

Everyone did their work to help set up camp. Things moved rapidly as night began to creep over the horizon. It flowed smoothly and without much hassle dinner was bubbling away in the pot upon the crackling fire. Crowded around that fire they all laughed and tittered about the day, Diana’s unique catch of the fat templar, and the extra half day it would take to reach Skyhold.

“Dearest cousin, please, get some rest. Bull has offered to take the first watch. Varric is going to assume the second and,” letting out a groan Dorian rolled his eyes back at Bull, “I shall take the final watch.”

Letting a coiled grin kiss her lips Diana peered towards Cullen as she spoke, “well dearest cousin that is quite generous of all of you. I appreciate the efforts put forth.” Rising she tipped her head to everyone, “I should bid you all good night then, since I’m sure the Commander will want to make up for lost time.” Hiding the grin cracking across her face she licked her lips, “I’m certain he will want to ride hard tomorrow to reach Skyhold.”

Cullen furrowed his brow, not picking up on the subtle innuendo of her speech. Feeling a stubby finger poke his side he glanced over to Varric. “Follow her Curly, Maker’s breath you’re slow tonight.” Eyes flashing wide Cullen staggered back as he watched Diana slip into her tent, “what?” he barely mumbled.

“Bull would you kindly speak to the man,” Dorian waved his arm as he disappeared into his tent.  
Bull slapped Cullen across the back as Varric threw up his hands and sauntered off to his tent, “Cullen, go get her. A little after battle sex, hot and heavy. Best way to cool off.”

Cullen flushed red as he stood sharply, “I… uh… well…” turning about he realize he was alone with Bull, “good night, Bull.” Keeping his head low he rushed off towards the tents. Peeking over his shoulder he saw Bull’s face down adding another thick log to the fire. Clenching his jaw tightly he went for it, ducking into her tent.

“I was wondering if you were going to figure it out,” Diana lay upon the top of her bedroll, in nothing but her smalls and bra band.

Lips pressed tightly together Cullen stifled a long groaning grunt as he began tugging at his armor. Practiced hands slipping buckles and clasps as he watched her toy with the lip of her bra band. Her finger dipping under the fabric and ringing around the edge plunging between her bountiful bosom.

Kicking at his boots he nearly tumbled to the floor. Righting himself he pulled the last pieces of his armor off and discarded them to the side. Pulling his shirt over his head he let out a throaty half growl, “I don’t wish the entire camp to know what we’re doing tonight.”

Reaching behind her she unclipped her bra band, catching the material against her breast she sighed, “of course. Believe me when I say you don’t want to give Iron Bull ideas when Dorian is around.”

Finishing with the ties to his pants he hurriedly hauled them down. Standing before her, naked and ready he licked his lips, “good. Take it off, now.” His voice was low and smacked of his stern Commander tone.

Purring she tossed the bra band at his face. Looping her finger tips in her smalls she stood up, “yes Commander,” turning sideways she shimmied her hips, dragging the clothe inch by painstaking inch down her toned, bronze thighs. It was too much as he sucked in his bottom lip, sinking his teeth into the stubble patch of skin beneath. Tossing her bra band towards his armor he stalked towards her, half primal predator half remaining in control. He knew she loved to unleash this side. Pure carnal sin and animal ferocity nestled just underneath his cool veneer.

Sinking to her knees she licked her lips, waiting for him to come closer. Taking as much joy in teasing herself as she did in tease him, he got down to his fours. His eyes never leaving hers as he crawled towards her, the beast in steady pursuit. His eyes drove her back, upon her elbows and down to the bedroll, where he loomed over her. Kneeing her legs open his breath heavy, he pressed her down into the woven blankets, “I’ve wanted you all day.”

Dragging her nails along his shoulders and up into his hair she sighed, “seeing me fight turns you on?” It was less a question, and more a sinful statement as she nipped his bottom lip, drawing a harsh moan from him. 

“You are grace and death,” he sealed his lips to hers, eager and forceful, just how she always craved him. Leaning further into her he craved the sounds she could make. Low and wicked murmurs that made him weak. Taking her lip in his teeth he graced them over the sensitive flesh, “you are sin and base, a demon wrapped in sweet promises.”

Licking his upper lip, she grinned against his mouth, “I love when you talk dirty to me.” Pulling him back into herself she snaked her hands down his neck, over the taut muscles of his back, passing countless scars as she reached over the small of his back to grasp his rear tightly in her palms. Forcing him forward she felt his tip twitch at the sudden dip into her warmth. Shuddering she threw her head back, “fuck, yes,” she gritted out between her teeth. “Fuck me hard, Cullen.”

A thunderous bellow held tightly in his chest as he thrust into her, driving himself as deep as he could. Gasping above her, he seized her wrists. Pinning them over her head in one hand he grinned, “how do you ask for such things?” His face loomed over hers just beyond her reach. Struggling would be ineffective against his size and strength but he knew she would. Knew she loved the chase, the callous and naked approach to their love making. She bucked under him, twisting her hip against his, forcing him in and out of her. Leaning back, he grinned, “that’s not being a very good girl, is it?” He tugged on her nipple, earning another low hiss and curse. “How do we ask for such things?” He enjoyed being in control, enjoyed commanding her in such a way. A way he never thought of until she came along, equal parts fire and tempered water, and only for him.

“Fuck me hard, Commander, please,” her doe eyes batted their long lashes as her lips pouted. 

He twitched hard inside of her, so much so she gasped at the sudden shift. How he loved this game, how it drove him higher. He couldn’t last, wouldn’t last much longer and by the tightening around his length, she couldn’t either. Giving her breast, a firm swat he grinned, “did you want your hands back, temptress?”

“Mhmm, please Commander. I wish to touch you,” licking her lips she eyed him like a hungry wolf prepared to devour him whole. 

Slapping her other breast, he released her hands, “good girl.” His voice was low as he rocked his hips, “come here,” he opened his arms to her as he leaned back upon his knees. Helping her into his lap he thrust up into her, her own hips matching his rhythm made the tent spin. Light was fading, the tent whirled and the delicious sounds of her sighs and moans were in his ear as he clutched her to him, “damnit Di…” he panted. His walls were closing in, sound and atmosphere washing away in the cloudy haze swirling about him. Her voice broke the sensation, “fill me, fuck me.” Burying his face in her breasts he sucked one of the stiff peaks into his mouth hard. Her half cry was muffled as she sank her teeth into her palm to muffle herself. Squeezing her rear in the other hand he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. Another thrust, and both were squelching their wails. Riding their climax together, their breaths frantic and gasping. He released her breast and rested his forehead against hers. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck she let out a soft giggle, “you are a delectable prince.”

Chuckling along with her, he struggled to catch his breath, “I love you, Diana. I hope you know that.”

Giving his rear, a firm swat she let out a chorus of giggles, “of course I do, silly. I would never allow anyone else to ride me like you.” Seeing his face twist up in an odd assortment of confusion and amusement she laughed again, “oh Cullen, you are such an innocent little creature. Never change.” Carefully slipping off his lap she swiped a rag from her bag and tidied them off, “come, sleep. I’m sure you’ll be marching us at a wicked pace come morning.”

Giving his head a shake he sighed, “I shall never get used to your humor and sense of carefree flippancy.”

“Flippancy?” she laughed again, “Maker Cullen, I’m only getting started,” winking she patted the bedroll, “come on. There’s room for two.” 

Sinking into the bedroll, he cradled her in his arms, “thank you.”

Wiping the sweat from his brow she nestled into his chest, “no thank you my dearest. I love you, Cullen Stanton Rutherford. Even if I don’t say it nearly enough, know I do. Now hush before you make me get all mushy.”

Snuggling her tightly he sighed, “perish the thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is almost a direct piece added in I wrote earlier. I wanted it to be part of this, and it fit. I retooled a few pieces but for the most part it is the same. I hope you enjoyed it, and their continued relationship.


	9. One More Won't Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING**
> 
> Non-consensual sex near the end of the chapter. If this upsets you please, be warned it is at the end.

Arriving at Skyhold nearly two and a half weeks later, Cullen looked very shaggy. His face clean shaved before they left, was now sporting a healthy beard. Flecked with salt and pepper, only hidden until close enough to see the loss of colour against the golden hair. Even the hair upon his head had grown. If not as dramatically as his facial hair. Strolling into his office he felt relieved to be back, and exhausted as he looked over the mountain of papers, neglected upon his desk, now beginning to spill onto the floor. “Rylen,” he growled the name, low, to himself. 

It would have been too much to assume he wouldn’t have any work to finish, but at this rate his much-desired shave, would have to wait. Tossing his sack to the side he peeled off his mantle, hanging it upon the dummy in the corner, he set about his papers. 

Seemingly the moment her foot crested the entrance to Skyhold, Diana was whisked away by Josephine and Leliana as they prepared her to meet the nobles arriving for the party tomorrow. Names were slung about the room, and Diana was finding it difficult to follow along, at times asking Leliana to repeat them before moving to the next article. It caused Leliana to stop, “Inquisitor? Are you well? You are having a hard time. Do you need rest or?” 

“No, no. I’m fine, just tired. Nothing to be worried for, continue.” Keeping herself upright in her desk chair, she focused on writing notes down. Something to keep her mind anchored. When Josephine offered to have food brought in, she didn’t turn it down. Picking through the bounty of food brought up, she felt her mind clear and her focus return. Josephine was going over the list of ‘suitors’ and Diana was trying her best not to scream at the woman. Leliana had already gotten her gowns brought up. A brand-new gown for each day of the soiree and for nearly each meal. Diana half groaned, “I’m to change my clothes like an actor in an Orlesian Opera?” 

“Yes, and no. You don’t have to do any changes you do not wish to do.” Leliana reassured her, “but these dresses are most stunning, and the shoes.” There was no escaping the whimsical sigh that escaped Leliana’s breath at the utterance of the word, ‘shoes.’

Josephine quickly opened the door to her storage room, and pulled out a rack of dresses, “you can take your time and look at each piece and decide for yourself.” 

Diana’s eyes roamed over the gowns and she nodded, “alright. I’ll get to picking out something before I have to wear it. Is that all tonight? I wish to bathe, and relax. My head is pounding.” Pinching her nose, she couldn’t shake the thought that she’d forgotten something. Bidding the women a good night, and relaxing back as the servants came to fill her tub she wasn’t looking forward to the next two days. Two days and then she’d be off to do, something, somewhere and why couldn’t she remember what? 

As the last servant left, she stripped out of her clothes and eased into her tub, letting the steam carry away any concerns over the next few days. Corypheus had yet to rear his ugly head and their spy network had yet to pinpoint anything. Dagna had just received Maddox’s tools and she needed time to formulate something. In the meantime, she’d have to meet and greet a few dozen nobles, drink her fair share of wine and dance away a couple nights before she could once again be free of the headache of politics. 

Cullen finally managed to finish the last of the old papers. Thankful for the years of reading documents in the Circles, and picking up an ability to skim and absorb. Sorting the papers into groups he was comfortable with this portion of the work. Returning his focus to the duty roster he was pleasantly surprised to see it both complete, and to his satisfaction. Yet, the hand lettering was not Rylen’s. It was far too elegant to be his writing. “Lysette?” he wondered aloud before there was a knock on his door. “Enter,” he bellowed, dusting his hands off on his pants. He’d removed his armor, and was sitting in a loose tunic, his pants lightly tied about his waist. With his focus being on his papers, he had gotten comfortable, but had yet to tend to his grooming. His hair longer at the sides and back, styled away, had began to rebel against his product. 

This was the scene Lysette walked into, “Cullen?”

He chuckled at the startled sound in her voice, “I have not had time yet to tend to myself, forgive my unkempt appearance. Was there something I could do for you?”

Stammering over her words she blushed, “I came to check on you ser, and to inform you the duty roster is set. We are prepared for the nobles arriving tomorrow.”

Waving her in, he sat back down at his desk, “I’m not entirely prepared for the next couple days, but I appreciate the effort. I just went over the duty roster, I am pleased with it, thank you.” 

Lysette was beaming as she stood cautiously at the door, “thank you Commander. Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“No, that will be all tonight, Lysette, thank you.” Digging through his desk he was hunting for his shaving kit. “Was Rylen at my desk while I was away?”

Lysette sprung and rushed around behind Cullen. Looping her around his back, she was helping dig through his desk, “Rylen moved some of your desk items. He was looking for a quill and inkpot. I believe your personal kit, is right,” reaching in she pulled the velvet pouch out, “here!” In her haste to help she hadn’t figured in how close she was to his body, and without his armor or her own on, she was pressed against the firm planes of his muscular back. 

“Thank you,” Cullen maintained his composure, undeterred by Lysette or her actions. Opening the bag, he was pleased to see his shears and straight edge were untouched inside. “If there is nothing further, I shall bid you a good night.”

“Yes, ser,” Lysette quickly adjusted her blouse and came around before him, “ser. Rylen is treating everyone to drinks tonight, to prepare for the nobles tomorrow. Would you care to join us?”

He mulled it in his mind. Diana would be busy with Josephine at least for a couple more hours. Nodding he shrugged. His grooming could wait till morning. “I suppose I’ll tidy myself in the morning.” Rising he snickered, “surprise the Starkhaven right out of Rylen too. Let’s go.”

The Tavern was a buzz with soldiers and servant taking the evening to relax. Over the next two days, none would have the opportunity to relax. Cullen easily sat with the group of soldiers, Rylen offering him a drink. Diana had told him, her evening would be chaos and to not wait up for her. With the nobility arriving at all hours they couldn’t risk being seen coming from the other’s room. Tonight, they would have to be alone. Something he wasn’t entirely looking forward to. At least at the Tavern, he could have a couple drinks before turning in. Nothing more than a couple drinks, and a good meal. 

Settling in he was happily returning the chatter of Rylen who saw fit to torment him on his new beard, “perhaps if it bothers you so, I shall keep it till you leave.” Laughing he was pleased to be with good company, and the looser atmosphere let him relax more. 

The night wore on, and they laughed and joked about many things. Until it hit a sore subject. Cullen tried to keep himself unattached. Tried to remain calm as some about the table complained. Complained about the ‘Ice Queen.’ Inquisitor. “How was it travelling with her snowy highness?"

“Fine. I have no issue with the Inquisitor.” Cullen tried to blow it off, taking another long dredge from his tankard. The tankard he could have swore was not as full as it was now. Placing it back down, he tried not to let the banter of the group sullen his mood. Diana hadn’t come right out and announced their relationship. If anything, he was under the impression it was to be quiet. 

“Oh, come on now Cullen! We all saw that fake Comte and the way you handed him his arse. Can’t tell me you weren’t pissed about that mess,” chuckled one man, who’s cheeks were far redder than Cullen thought possible. 

“He needed a good lesson. I may have been upset with the Inquisitor for allowing such filth to enter Skyhold, but she had her reasons.” Again, the tankard seemed fuller than a moment ago and he was beginning to feel the brew as it filled his head. 

Someone slapped his arm, “bet she was right pissed at you for it. Come on, she was a mess upon that step, watching you wax her little friend. Sent her packing to her room, didn’t ya!” There was a collective fit of laughs as the group chattered and once again refilled his mug.

“Rylen, are you trying to get me drunk?” Cullen snickered, leaning over the table as he pointed a finger at him. “What did you fuck with while I was away? My shaving kit was not where I left it.” 

Rylen burst into a fit of giggles fit for a school girl, “oi. Come now. Had I known you had your desk laid out perfect, I’d have made a map!”

Cullen was just glad the conversation was slipping from the Inquisitor to him. Anything but her. He ached for her tonight, the ale running through him and making his head light. But he wasn’t supposed to see her, and she wasn’t going to make it back to his chambers either. “Nobles, fuck’em!” Cullen raised his tankard and downed a healthy bit, staring it down as he set it upon the table. Sure, enough Rylen filled it again, “I knew it was you, you Starkhaven bastard!” 

Rylen nearly fell off his chair laughing, as did the men around him. Cullen roaring along with them. His head was getting foggy, far too foggy for his liking and he was still craving her. He’d have to see to himself tonight and with a belly full of strong ale, he knew it wouldn’t be long. Struggling to move his chair he let out another barking laugh, “Rylen, you ass.” 

“Oh, come now Rutherford. You needed to blow of some steam. Been working too damn hard. Stuck in your quarters morning, noon and night. Being the personal lackey of the ice queen. A few drinks will do you well!” Rylen topped his tankard off one last time, reaching the end of the bottle. “One last one. See? I’m all out!” 

Flopping back into the chair he nodded, “one more. I have to climb a ladder to bed.” Laughing away he rejoined the conversation which was then turned to his ladder bed. Why couldn’t the Commander of the Inquisition be given better quarters, and a roof with no holes in it. “I like to look at the stars.” Grinning like a young boy he gave a snorting laugh. “Ever fucked under the stars Rylen? Now there is a life goal, my friend.” 

“Maker’s ass, Cullen. You’re tanked,” Rylen burst into laughter. “Lysette, get this idiot back to his quarters. He’s drunk enough to fall over the damn battlements.” 

“I can…” Cullen went to stand and almost immediately came crashing back down to he floor. Laying flat on his back he was laughing so hard he let out a string of snorts, which had everyone doubled over in laughter. 

Lysette bent down, trying to heave him off the floor, “Cullen, you’ll have to work with me.” 

Half dragging himself up he was still giggling away as he got to his feet. “I... I can manage just fine.” He could barely see the door, and was fairly confident that he was going to fall a few more times. He’d have to ask Diana for one of her tonics if he bruised his face too badly.

“I’ll take you to your chambers,” Lysette’s voice was buttery in his ear as she looped her arm in his. 

His vision was a blur and exactly how he managed to arrive in his office was a complete unknown to him. The next vague thing he was aware of, was the ladder rungs in his hands and a voice telling him to climb. When he reached the top, he flopped on his bed, snickering away, “thank you.” Unsure of who he was talking to he still felt the urge. His need for Diana, yet he was more than aware he would never make it to her room in his current state. This did not deter the blood, from rushing down below. 

“Cullen,” Lysette gasped as she witnessed the bulging in Cullen’s pants. 

He lazily looked up at her, his vision still blurred from the alcohol, but he tried to apologize, “I’m so sorry, I… well…” laughing again, he flopped back down upon his bed. What more could he say? He had best to sleep off his intoxicated state and tend to apologizing in the morning. His mind was sent reeling when he felt hands, warm and soft untying his breeches. “I can… I…” His moan filled the room, as Lysette’s lips wrapped around his thick head. 

She continued to strip his clothing off, as her lips worked him, making him harder and driving his urges. He could feel her disrobe. Feel the material flutter against his leg as it hit his bedroom floor. He gasped loudly when her heated tongue left him. Only to growl louder still as Lysette sunk down on top of him. “Ah,” he tried to raise his head up, but his vision doubled, and the room started to move. She was talking to him, admitting something, but it wasn’t sinking in. Only the pleasure of her heat wrapped tightly around him, dripping down him, smothered his senses. He was aware of someone, on top of him, riding him, their hands under his shirt, pawing his chest. But they felt wrong. Something felt wrong. When lips kissed his, they were different. Not the ones he expected, wanted. But the ale was strong, stronger than his words and stronger than his body. Lyrium withdrawal, and the red lyrium having stripped him of any resistance. Looking up through his half open eyes he recognized the face of the woman on top of him, “Lysette?” He moaned out the name as she ground her hips down, forcing him deeper inside her. 

“Maker, yes Cullen!” She cried back, dulling the sound of the tower door opening.


	10. Soiree

Diana stood there. For how long she couldn’t tell. But she could hear them. Hear Cullen’s grunts and mewls as the sound of wet skin against skin filled the room. She had heard he was drunk. Heard he was too drunk and she’d brought with her a drink to tame the alcohol in his stomach. His system wouldn’t be able to handle strong drink for some time, the withdrawal hopefully having run its final course on the road back from the Shrine.

“Lysette?” She heard him mumble, but was it a question. She couldn’t tell. and she was losing her mind standing down in his office. “Maker, yes, Cullen!” Lysette cried out, and Diana lost it. She’d already placed the cup on his desk, now she stomped across the room, grabbing the door she opened it wide before slamming it shut. “Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, I require you immediately!” Diana’s voice boomed through the tower, as she set her jaw. Ready to face Lysette first. 

“Shit!” was the only sound that filled her ears. Cullen was clearly too drunk to move. Lysette returned her clothes quickly and came sliding down the ladder. “Inquisitor, what...”  
“Get out.” Diana stared through her, a glare that would have buried an archdemon. 

“Yes, right away ma’am.” Lysette scampered out the door and into the night. 

Diana waited hearing him stumble about. Finally, he came down, a blanket wrapped about his waist and his eyes very glossy. “Drink what’s in the mug, then we’ll talk.” Diana had her arms held tight against her chest, trying to control her breathing. She was angry, and hurt and everything was moving so quickly.

Cullen stumbled over and grabbed the cup. Taking it down in one gulp, he shook his head as it began to clear. “Diana?” His vision was beginning to return, and he could make out the scarlet coils billowing down her back. “Diana… what…”

“You and Lysette. That’s what happened.” Her tone was sharp and short with him. Seeing the blanket still clinging to his form, “you’ll want to bathe.” 

Running a hand through his hair, the other clutching the blanket his shoulders dropped, “Di. I’m so sorry. I was drunk, and I don’t remember how. Lysette?”

“Don’t! Don’t say her name.” Diana took a step back wards towards the door. “How could you?”

He felt angry. Having spent half the night defending her, he was sour now. “I can’t… this!” Waving between the two of them he shook his head. “I can’t tell anyone about this, then I get invited out for drinks, and I… Damnit, Diana, all I wanted tonight was you. I wanted to be with you, enjoy a night out with you, by my side!”

“Don’t you throw this on me!” She waved her finger at him, “because I don’t want to cause trouble. For you? For the Inquisition? You think it’s okay to let that…” gritting her teeth she shook her, “that you could fuck her!”

“I didn’t.” He threw his head back. “I was drunk, I fell on my bed. I could barely see the damn door. She…” It was embarrassing to admit. A large, strong man like himself, and he fell victim. That word made his stomach flop. “I did not consent…”

“I…” throwing her hands up, Diana shook her head. “I can’t do this right now. I… please don’t see me tomorrow. I wish to be alone till the soiree. I hope you understand Cullen.” Turning she left him standing alone in his chambers. 

Cullen sat at his desk, running his hands through his hair. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry, and at whom. He knew he needed time to think about everything, and sleep. Climbing his ladder, he crawled into bed. Tomorrow he needed to be up early, to shave and clean himself up before the arrival of the nobles and the first night of dancing. He’d be forced now, for sure to stand in that ball room and watch over the evening. If only so Diana could get a touch of revenge for his stupidity. 

How could he have not seen Lysette coming? How did he miss the signs? Flipping onto his back, he stared up at the stars. Counting the little orbs in the sky, he yawned, and slowly he fell asleep. He slept well, not having woken during the night, and his body in much better shape, he was thankful for the meal upon his desk and a few buckets of warm water. It wasn’t the lovely tub in her room, but an wash was a good wash. 

Dipping his cleaning rag in the water, he had already locked his doors. Standing in the nude by his desk, he scrubbed away the sweat and memories of last night. Somehow, he had to face Lysette today too. Unsure how he was going to deal with her, he dumped a bucket of hot water over his head. Collecting the water in an empty bucket. Shaking his now clean hair, he went to his desk, a towel wrapped about his waist. Sitting down he pulled out his grooming sack. Brushing his hair back and looking in his mirror, he clipped his hair. Applying his usual styling produce, he smoothed his hair back before getting out his straight razor. Each pass over his cheek, he was going over the details of the day. Only to let a groan out as he caught the familiar red and blue dress jacket, hanging on the dummy in the corner. “Maker, no.” 

With his face cleanly shaved, and his hair preened back, he got on some comfortable clothes. Before tugging on his nearly thigh high dress boots. Groaning again he looked at the jacket. It was uncomfortable, and too tight about the neck. Yet, each time the tailor looked at him and the jacket she assured him it was tailored to fit. That letting the jacket out would ruin the ‘aesthetic’, whatever that meant. Unlocking his doors, he was ready to receive reports and his usual early morning visit from Leliana. 

“Commander, are you prepared?” Just on time Leliana’s voice sung through the door. “Yes, I am ready, enter.” Grabbing the few slips of paper on his desk he pretended to be deep in reading. 

“You appear well rest Cullen. Perhaps the withdrawal is over? It has been over a year if not more now.” Leliana took her seat before him, a small pad of papers in her hand.  
“Two years, eighteen days, and,” looking out the window, he drew in a deep breathe, “seven hours. I will never forget. Now, what did you have for me this morning?” Noticing her attire was the same as the Winter Palace, he knew the demand for the dress jacket would be impossible to get out of. 

Leliana tapped some papers on the edge of his desk before neatly handing them to him, “no, you can’t get out of the dress jacket. The guard rotation has been set as to your orders from before your trip. Yes, Josephine and I are up to date on the events. Dagna has the tools and once the soiree is over she will have a small supply of red lyrium to work with. Diana is sitting upon the throne now, greeting every noble that comes to Skyhold. She will then begin the soiree just before dinner hour. The banquet will be laid out, everyone will eat then the tables will be moved to the walls, so the main hall can be used as a dance floor. Vivienne has offered the band her quarters to play. She will obviously be attending the ball and does not require it until the party ends. You, are to be in the main hall no sooner than the dancing. Diana has made it quite clear she wishes you to oversee the patrols and intake of nobles. Josephine will announce each noble, then myself and an agent will find them quarters. Did I miss anything?” Leliana smiled calmly as she waited his answer.

“Right. Got it.” He was sore. Sore that Diana hadn’t offered to see him, even though he knew she couldn’t. But she was pushing him away until the moment she would be in the arms of over a dozen nobles. All with their grabby hands, and wicked eyes. Keeping as calm as he could muster he smiled, “then I suppose I shall save the dress jacket till the dance. Don’t want it to get dirty.” 

Leliana chuckled brightly, “of course. Is there anything else, Cullen? Anything at all you wish to speak to me about?” 

Grinning he knew she was digging, that she was likely aware of last night’s events, “I do not wish to comment on the matter. I leave it in her hands to decide things as they lay.”  
“In your defense,” Leliana smiled standing, preparing to leave. “if she wishes to keep you a secret, then there can be no other choice. She will have to indulge the nobles with being single. And you should not be stuck, in pain, on the side. My best wishes to the both of you.” 

Cullen let her go without uttering a word. He didn’t have to. Leliana was their spymaster and the best one he’d ever come across. Not that he knew many. The Order had its keeper of secrets. Leliana was different. She could see things in people, read them like an open book without them saying a word. It’s likely Diana didn’t say anything and in her anger, she forgot to put her mask on. Letting the thought go, he had work to attend to, and at some point, he needed to speak with Lysette. What she did was wrong, and it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Directing the troops, and light training exercise held his attention for most of the day. Lysette seemingly avoiding him at every turn. Just before the dance, he returned to his office to tidy himself and don his jacket. It was then he noticed the note upon his desk. Walking over he picked it up:

Cullen, I am sorry for last night. Had I known you were the pet of the Inquisitor. I would have never taken advantage of the situation. I have packed my belongings and will be traveling back with Rylen to the Western Approach. He has need of my talents out there, and I believe it is best I go. Sister Leliana handled the change in guard. Maker watch over you. – Lysette.

That was one way to deal with it. Part of him wondered if it really was Lysette’s idea. A good bit of him knew this had to be Leliana’s nurturing hand. Crumpling the note, he casually tossed it back to his desk, before turning to grab his dress jacket. After all he had somewhere he needed to be.

“Stop fussing with it,” Josephine scowled at Diana as she plucked at the near skin-tight fabric. “It is supposed to look as it does. Relax and take control of it.” Josephine had gotten to know the inflections and methods to Diana, and now she was hoping to goad her into moving into the soiree.

“I hardly look like myself.” Diana’s hair was elaborately done up, not a single lock gracing her shoulders or neck. Glimmering material hung to every curve and the slit upon her side was nearly to her hip. Running her hands over her stomach she stopped, caressing the edges of her abs. Shaking the movement she turned, “I don’t know about this one. Form fitted dresses are not the style in Orlais.” 

“Exactly. You’ll start the trend and when everyone else is doing it. You will have defined a new trend. They will be clamoring for your approval.” Josephine nodded to Vivienne who was checking her fingernails in the corner.

“My dear, that dress may be a bit much. Perhaps that one instead,” Vivienne flicked her finger over to the dress sitting upon the hook. It was less fitted, a smaller plum skirt that hit just below her hip. “That still gets the style of today but alters it. Women will flock to your seamstress,” grinning, Vivienne nodded again, “yes that one darling. Trust me.” 

Changing into the new gown, Diana looked herself over in the mirror. Her shoulders were bare, the corset pulled tight in the back, and a small section tied in front, making it so the gown dipped between her breasts. It hugged her figure to her hips then flared out into a less puffy ballgown. “Alright, this I can do.” 

“I love that colour gold on you. Most exquisite. With your fiery mane, you represent the Inquisition splendidly, my dear.” Vivienne preened her hair and tugged a few coils loose. “There, perfection.”

“About Lysette, Inquisitor.” Leliana stalked from the shadow of the railing, “she has left to the Western Approach. I do hope that is satisfactory.”   
Diana nibbled her cheek, “yes, quite. Is everyone ready?”

Josephine went ahead, and Diana stood in the door way, waiting her announcement. “Now, the Inquisitor, Diana Trevelyan.” As Josephine said her name she calmly stepped out into the main hall, over to the throne where she dipped and waved to the room. The nobility clambering to cheer and garner her attention. “I now declare that this soiree can begin!” Waving her arms up, the music began to pour from the rafters.


End file.
